Elektra's Spinning Steel

The midday breeze carried plenty of force, but the decorative tin pinwheel wedged in the cedar planter sat stubbornly motionless. Its jagged sheet-metal petal had crimped against the rusted wire axle, silencing its rotation. Sloppy resistance is an insult to the wind. Crouching low along the weathered rim, the crimson tails of my red bandana lashing over my shoulder, I slid the tapered prong of my right sai beneath the bent metal crease. With one surgical levering twist, I coaxed the petal back into alignment. The next gust caught the clean bevel instantly, whipping the blades into a fierce, humming silver disc. Lethal symmetry, spinning on cue.